Mass Effect: Contrast
by FrostByterFang
Summary: Thrown into an other-world where her male counterpart commands the Normandy SR-1, Jane Shepard tries to cope with the fact that she's a stranger to an old yet new reality. With only a foggy recollection of events in the other timeline, she relives the horrors of her struggles against the Reapers with John; becoming reluctant but bitter allies in an effort to thwart the inevitable.
1. Synthesis

~~~000~~~

Pain was a fickle, funny thing.

In all her life there's always been pain, and there was never any shortage of it. That much was expected.

It made commander Jane Shepard feel things, sure, but they were basic emotional and physical agonies that she could push away at a moment's notice. Its a trait she'd always been able to tame; walling up her personal boundaries so she could be the stronger leader everyone needed. Deemed a ruthless champion to some and a model for her crew so they could always rely on her. It alienated some of them, probably, but that was just fine with her if it meant they could all walk out of this Hell alive. No one person was ever privy to her own inner turmoils, or actually managed to get so emotionally close to her. She's pushed all of them away.

All except for Garrus, she figured. He always seemed to know whenever she needed a certain friend by her side, somehow. It was always him, if not Liara or the oddly observant Joker. But she digressed.

Nonetheless, pain controlled Shepard and that was an absolute she counted on. Sometimes it was an underwhelming sensation easily buried beneath her duties; while other times it was a horrible, _shitty_ fireball of sheer horror shooting through her jumping arteries. Like right now: this was one of those times; where that god-awful sensation left the dizzying impression that she was burning within the hottest, deepest, most miserable pit of Hell's molten bowels. It felt strangely well-deserved, considering all the suffering her fellows endured serving her. At the end of the day, pain was the one who slipped into bed with her most; a grave now well dug. A final place of rest.

Let no one else get dragged down with her, she figured.

At the end of the Reaper War, there was a way to end it all while only sacrificing her own life. That's fine with her, considering the repercussions of the other 'choices' the catalyst gave her. Synthesis seemed, for lack of better word, correct in a sense. Maybe even inevitable after all she's seen. Hell, Shepard was partially synthetic herself as testament to that actuality.

There's no denying evolution; even if it's shift can be delayed.

Saren's words and actions hadn't been wrong now that she thought about it, even if his methods were something extreme; that she condemned at one point. His ability to turn himself into something that fused machine and flesh had shocked her once, disgusted her next, and horrified her later. His attempt to becoming "The pinnacle of evolution" was what resulted in his defeat three years ago.

With this in mind, Shepard considered the Geth, Edi and Leviathan's machinations: The memory of the rogue Spectre and his union of steel, blood and bone; which no longer disgusted her after her latest battles, with her welcoming it for all it's worth. Saren wasn't wrong, although he was certainly flawed in his methods.

Shepard was always prepared to make crucial (if not impulsive) choices throughout her struggles the last few years, and this was no different. She's always told herself her own life was something she'd give first before risking the Normandy crew itself, although she's done some rather questionable things. She knew she hurt some of her comrades with some of her strange decisions, pushing them aside for the mission and all. But it got the job _done_. She regretted some of it, but still she strived to do better.

And that held true for this instance: Destroying synthetic life was throwing all of organic life back quite a few years, and it meant killing Edi and the Geth, and destroying the Mass Relays. Sure, the damned Reapers and their abominations would die too, but the cost was just too damn high. Controlling the Reapers was another alternative, but that didn't sit right with her at all. It wasn't natural for any one sentient being to manipulate an entire age of life.

So, in some sort of messed-up way, that left the last option up in the air:

It was a perverse scenario, picking and choosing what would become of life as she knew it, but it was the _only_ option she could boil down too in the end. Killing herself to make the Crucible work was fine with her. Better herself than them she figured. Still, deciding the fate of an entire sapient space-faring generation of organic life and the life afterward was an unnatural crock of bull-shit. Something like that was a weight no one person should ever be left to bear, or even get to ponder at all. At least she won't live long enough to regret her decision.

So, all-in-all, fuck it.

 _I've never really done right by them,_ Shepard thought as she leapt into Hell's maw. _Too many have died because of me. I made these choices; and no one has ever pushed me to make them. I'll live with their outcome and die with them. Its my life for theirs; for those that followed me._

Edi. James. Cortez. Adams.

 _For those that carried me through adversity._

Miranda. Tali. Chakwas. Even Javik in his own hard-nosed way.

 _For what we sacrificed._

There was too many to name, but Shepard knew the faces; she could never forget. Ashley, Kaidan, Thane, Jack, Legion, Mordin, Wrex; some were examples of people she failed to save. Others were lives she'd willingly given for bitter victory. Too many more were relinquished to the cause itself throughout time.

 _And... for those whose loyalty was never questioned._

Liara. Joker. Garrus. Anderson.

 _All of them. Everyone._

Her final dive into her resolved end brought all this weight with her, but it was a something she could always shoulder. Happily.

And it was at this, an advent, unexpected rush of serenity soon followed her deigned acceptance. Death's willing hands opened to the commander as she felt her mortal body disintegrate into the lime-light of the Crucible's energized pillar; a final release from all of the existential terrors brought about by the Reaper's threat. She was okay with that, even though it meant disappointing those she left behind. Those precious few who would continue to live, even when she couldn't.

Her last conscience thoughts lingered on all the rest; God knows how many surviving, loyal friends she was leaving behind. Still, she'd given them their best chance, their best hope for a future, and she could only pray that _this_ was the one, last, right decision out of her many mistakes. She'd made too many bad calls throughout the years, and Jane had wished too many times that she could've corrected them before this moment. To go back and fix them all. It was something she never usually dwelled on, but death had a funny way of making you sentimental.

But maybe, this one decision was her last redeeming act. After all, whenever the Commander had resolved to achieve a means to an end, anything was possible.

No matter what the cost.


	2. From the Unknown

_Yeah yeah, I know. This is my THIRD attempt at writing this bloody thing; seeing how I'm never really happy with it. **I'm completely over-hauling it.** So... Fuck it. Hopefully, I'll could try to not half-ass this thing: Its a given if my interest in this is retained long enough, but meh. My interest in writing the Fine Line is a little greater than this one anyhow._

 _Whatever the case, Some of you had complaints about how I had it originally, and I didn't much like the second attempt; so here's the... new, 'revised' and improved version of what I had in mind, kind of. Some things were changed, some not, so what. I re-purposed SOME of the writing used in my earlier attempts, so please stick around to read through chapter one again. **You'll see how different it is towards the end.** I might as well use some of the older shit; just not all of it. Its a real time-saver._

 _For the newbies: As it were, this is another typical 'If Jane Shepard met John Shepard' fic most people in the fandom are familiar with. Boring right? Pretty typical stuff, but for the sake of interest, certain events may be changed or deviated. Dunno what they'll be until I get to them, so it'll be a pleasant (or unpleasant) surprise for both you and me!_

 _Essentially its a Renegade Jane versus Paragon John thing, Jane and John versus universe, versus Reapers, versus self, versus all the the bullshit the galaxy throws at them. On the side, I ship Garrus and femShep too, so there'll be some of that Shekarian shit later on. For now, the setting will be in the events of the manhunt for Saren. John will romance Tali since I think she's just a wonderful, little shotgun-loving sweetheart. Since there's no viable dextro-relative romance in Mass Effect 1, I'll put in some 'chemistry' to make up for it. I love romancing Liara and all too, but seriously; I love romancing the awkward, loyal, babbling dextros just a little bit more._

 _That said, enjoy the story as I hopefully portray it in a way you all will like. Gimme some nerd facts on our favorite characters and alien species too! Sometimes I feel like I didn't know them enough to write them out accurately. Which was why my previous attempts at writing this was faulty as Hell._

 _Have fun! And leave some reviews; I need the info and improvement._

* * *

~~~000~~~

 _What a pain in the ass._

Shepard fought to retain his usually stalwart composure after that _needlessly_ pointless conversation with the council, his brittle mood heading south so quickly he knew his fatigue has had a hand in rendering his blunt responses. He nearly told Joker to just cut the call after one of the Councillors oh-so profoundly pointed out the not-so-important loss of the damned ruins. It was as if saving Liara's life wasn't really an essential part of the whole adventure into the shit-end of the Traverse to begin with.

Maybe he shouldn't have bothered with writing the half-assed template he has waiting in the louge room a deck down. Filing a report was annoying enough as it is, but to send one even after a meeting like this? At this point, he should just toss it once he finished charting a course to the next Relay.

The commander stood over the galaxy map in the meantime, just now thinking about how Ashley had been correct in her pessimistic opinions regarding politicians: You can't trust them for shit; a notion he internally agreed with. He had an ugly series of opinions for each of the three in turn: Sparatus being one hell of an skeptic to start. If an actual Reaper dropped down onto his front lawn right in front of him, he'd _still_ deny its existence pointedly. The Turian was borderline confrontational whenever it came to Shepard's actions, and its unprofessional to say the least. It's a small wonder why Tevos doesn't say anything.

And speaking of her, she and Valern, the Asari and Salarian councillers respectively, weren't much better. They _seemed_ to possess some semblance of understanding about Shepard's current position after his explanations, but a part of him wondered to what extent. His gut told him as much; and it was a something he's always listened too. He'd told them that saving Liara was more important than keeping the Prothean ruins intact, and although the two agreed Liara's new position on the _Normandy_ was sound, he still felt dismissive of their agreement.

Tangents aside, he still had a small share of problems to worry about as soon as he finished plotting his course to the Armstrong cluster, as well as head to Feros afterward. That slave-driver Hackett usually had a 'small' list of things he was liable to toss at Shepard once he felt that the commander had too few things to do as it is. That said, the Commander decided he'll settle for a good long shower and an even longer nap after he finished up here. Shooting up Geth, smashing in some Krogan asshole's skull, dramatically rescuing Asari scientists, and joining your mind with said Asari to make sense of some Prothean vision was hard work after all.

Ignoring his minor migraine, Shepard just then finished with punching in the coordinates to the next route, feeling relief drag at his exhaustion. He began to move away from the holographic display of the galaxy map, feeling oddly content with all that's transpired suddenly. Sadly however, a subtle binging noise alerted him to oncoming dilemma being thrown his way, a man's voice crackling from the contraption in the CIC's center behind him.

 _"Commander?"_

Shepard had to fight the groan that nearly escaped his smoke-choked lungs.

 _The joys of being me._

He faced the display again, his expression every bit the authoriative mask he instinctively wore every time the rank was used when he was addressed. "What's the good news, Joker?" he asked, his voice measured, sarcasm only half-hidden.

The pilot's own tone was uneasy, but unafraid as it crackled through the speaker. _"You need to get down the Hangar,"_ he began a tad seriously. _"Apparently there's something goin' on down there. Williams is raising a stink about... a stowaway I think?"_

"Was that supposed to be the bad news?" he bantered.

 _"Naw. The fact that this stowaway managed to get into an armed vehicle at some point is probably the weird part. I think Williams saying its synthetic is meant to be the bad news."_

Shepard raised a muscled brow, his mind suddenly freeing itself from the fog of fatigue. "You mean the Geth trooper stuck in one of the Mako's wheels is causing a problem?" he ventured instead, briefly recalling his little self-made decision of leaving the afore-mentioned subject purposedly stuck in the tank's rear axel for Tali or Garrus to pick apart later.

 _"No. She said there's actually someone in the... Wait, what?"_ The helmsman just then dropped the ever-present sarcastic tone usually found in his voice. _"Did I just hear you say we have a_ _ **geth**_ _on board? As in an actual, live, freakin' geth?"_

Shepard merely moved the conversation along, "Tell Williams I'll be right down." He turned to leave but then added, "And don't worry about it; I ran it over twice."

 _"Uh... okay? Still worried here."_

The Commander acted as if he didn't hear the comment, almost whole-heartedly pushing aside the potential severity of the case at first. Still, his exhaustion was then swiftly brushed away in favor of contemplating whatever could be the problem down there; and he wasn't sure if it was the Geth in question. If it _had_ been the core problem, Gunnery Chief Williams would've seen it rectifed, if not Garrus or Wrex. Putting a bullet in its synthetic brain was sometimes counted as harmless fun to them.

Whatever the case, he hurried to the stair-way to the left, winding his way down until he faced the _Normandy's_ only lift. It was easily the galaxy's slowest moving elevator in Shepard's opinion, but at least the sensor in it registered his proximity quickly enough; admitting him inside after that. After he pressed the button on the right of the door, he leaned back against the railing, not sure whether he should fret over the mangled remains of useless machine caught within the maw of an even larger one.

There's no way that thing could still function after he ran it down; the Geth having stood deliberately (and stupidly) right in front of the Mako's intended path. Shepard simply slammed the armored bulk right into it since it didn't feel inclined to budge, and then he put the vehicle in reverse and rolled over it again for good measure. It got the tattered bits stuck in the process, but he didn't care. Tali had grumbled something about it being both excessive but funny; not that he couldn't tell with of her incessant babbled screaming. It _had_ been funny at the time, at least to him anyway.

Once the _Normandy's_ elevator opened up again, Shepard was roving his speculative gaze over the vastness of the bay, but saw nothing amiss but a small crowd gathered beside the tank. The majority seemed to be surrounding something laid out in the middle of the floor next to a bulkhead, the scene certainly peaking his interest. Shepard slowly made his way over and darted a glance at Tali, standing beside the crumbling bits of Geth at the Mako's rear.

 _Not the Geth then-_ He confirmed.

He diverted his gaze to Garrus Vakarian himself, the ship's only resident turian, setting himself on one knee with a clawed hand resting on his visor's frame. His mandibles were doing little jumps on occasion, hawkish eyes firmly arrested on what he was scanning. Ashley stood beside him, Garrus' own apprehension mirrored in her posture but she was perversely _armed_. This only continued to intrigue and confuse the commander, his expression reflecting said feelings with a frown.

He then noted Wrex standing boredly off to the side, his small nostrils occasionally flaring up as he seemed to sift through some pungent smell Shepard hadn't noticed until he got closer. Adams and two others of the _Normandy's_ crew stood a safe distance away with matching pinched expressions. And even more weirdly, he saw Docter Chakwas here too, bendt double with her 'mother hen' mode in full swing. Her lips were moving soundlessly, her hands busy and hurried as she strived to help whatever it was was lying there.

When John finally stopped beside the crowd, he noted the _huge_ amount of stinking, drying sweat and copper invading his sinuses first; the aroma borderline thick enough to make him gag. It smelled more like death than blood by the sheer, alarming amount of it. It threw his mind back several years into the past; at Akuze when the the Threshers hit. And that grim scent wasn't the only smell; charred flesh and burnt metal accompanied it, prompting Shepard to debate the individual lying in front of him.

A human woman, lying in a what looked like a growing pool of blood from freshly opened wounds. The woman was only _barely_ alive, her puffing breath coming out too fast and too shallow; her torso hardly moving with each draw. Her armor was a scorched, tattered ruin adhered to her likely equally as charred skin underneath. Her hair was dirty as all Hell; only _presumably_ copper-crimson in color by the looks of it. It was sweat-greased and stringy, burnt at the edges, and sticking up all over near the scalp.

At first glance, everything else seemed was normal; Jane's bruised body was all kinds of black and blue and every sickly shade in-between indicative of her current condition. There was a grotesque amount of purpling under her right eye, where a long but superficial cut was present. A few thin rivulets were dripping from her mouth and nose, and her right arm was bare up to the elbow; the armor seemingly scorched away by some unknown force. Her entire torso was also a real mess of dirt, crusted blood, and metal, but John needn't bother to look anywhere else as he observed a surreal anomaly crossing the woman's sharply-angled, freckled, fine-boned face.

 _...What the actual fuck-?_

Vivid, flowing symetrical lines of lime-green light pulsed through her palored skin, like a machine warming up after being turned on. The details in these glowing anomalies resembled that of a circuit board, consistantly running through the surface of her epidermis as if she were some synthetic. This last detail seemed impossible however, seeing how her body still both bled and bruised as an organic would. There's no possible way she was one thing purely; either synthetic or organic, that much he could guess.

Shepard finally turned his attention to the M-35, noting with some level of suspicious alarm the horrifying amount of even _more_ blood trailing from the door handle to the compartment inside of the tank. The hand prints were smeared all over, grotesquely prominent on the usually chalk white armor. It was crusted all over the side panel too, its rusty display further pronounced by the stuck soil from Therum's churning dust and ash.

 _This whole area looks like a God-damn murder scene._

"Someone mind telling me what's going here?" He warily began, his eyes flickering back to the subject lying before him.

Garrus tightened his mandibles to his chin, his almost avian stare a series of tight lines. He gave the commander a fleeting glance and then lifted his left arm, his omni-tool blinking on. "Just the usual it seems," he began with an irritable, somewhat sarcastic drawl, his arm sweeping over the near-corpse a few times. "Finding a stowaway on the most advanced warship in your Alliance is a usual thing I figure?"

"Happens every other day," The commander bit, finding himself unable to summon the good cheer to meet Garrus' reply.

"Good to know."

Ignoring the side-ways comment, Shepard then bendt down next to the _Normandy's_ only medic, his eyes roving the unfamilair woman's collar for anything that sticks out. He saw Chakwas' hand reach around the woman's neck for any I.D, the deflicate fingers threading their way around a ball chain. _Dog tags_ Shepard thought, watching as the Doc delicately drew them from the woman's neck.

"So, how the Hell did she even get on the ship?" He couldn't help but wonder aloud.

"The ensigns found her in the Mako," the gunnery chief elaborated. Williams was suddenly all stiff lines and rigid protocol as she continued, "I think she got in while you and the dextro duo were shooting up Geth in the ruins. When they went to haul it in, they noticed the door was unlocked, painted a new color, and ajar."

"Nice. And they still brought it in anyway?"

One of the men nearby (Shepard couldn't recall the guy's name) finally added, "We saw her in the back, but you were already reporting to the Council by the time we managed to get the Mako on board. The volcanic activity on Therum didn't leave us with any time to decide to leave her or not. She looked normal to us at first glance."

That much was true; if it wasn't for the armor and general weirdness of the glowing lines creasing her ashen skin, she didn't seem out of the ordinary. Except that she looked like a soldier or merc or scavenger or _whatever_ that had no business being out in the middle of a Geth-infested pile of Prothean decay.

By now, Chakwas had safely unhooked the chain and was inspecting it, her severe gaze an enigma to Shepard. He couldn't see what was inscribed in the metal, and he didn't have the chance to ask because she was suddenly pocketing them and returning to work right then.

"So, who is she, Doc?" Ashley braved before Shepard himself could ask.

The woman didn't reply immediately, her face uncertain and lips a firm slash. "Alliance," was her eventual reply, although her tone was stiff. It was stiff enough to clue in Shepard, who knew that the older woman was rather dubious in her conclusion. "No matter who she is though," She quickly added, her voice sharp and clear. "-She still needs help. I'm going to need some assistance in bringing her to the med-bay."

"I'll do it," said the Commander, deciding he'll have to ask the elder woman what she'd come down to in privacy. It must've been a delicate matter; and he briefly entertained the idea that mystery woman was an important figure or some shit. _She can't be Alliance though_ , he suddenly pondered. _Why would a single soldier be in the middle of that fucking mess in the first place?_

"So... What's this bit about her being... 'synthetic'?" He tried after another few contemplative seconds. "Can anyone here elaborate on what I'm seeing here?"

Ashley was the first to respond here, her voice a hardened but unsure note. "I dunno. I was just going by what Vakarian was telling me. The Doc here won't say nuthin'."

Garrus didn't spare her a glace, merely keeping his shock-blue eyes arrested on the human in front on him. "That's what initial scans told me," he said with some uncertainty, his talon tip still resting firmly on the visor. "She's flesh and blood one-minute and something else another."

Shepard was going to comment on this but his gunnery chief was quicker on the uptake. "She's clearly not just one thing," she inputted matter-of-fact. "Look at her freakin' skin. She glows in the damn dark for Christ's sake."

Before the turian could respond, Wrex suddenly inserted himself into the conversation with a strong finality evident in his own mud-thick voice, "Her blood is blood. Nothing synthetic about it. The only weird thing is her hide."

Garrus lifted his mandibles in a swift but brief series of ticks; something the commander has learned was his agitation showing through whenever a new, unsolvable dilemma revealed itself. "Whatever the case, how the Hell did she get inside the Mako? I could've swore it was shut tight when we left it ground-side," he asked, brow plates dipping lower and leaving his expression oddly human despite appearances.

"Beats the Hell outta me," Ashley shrugged rather stiffly. She then slid Shepard a glance that bordered between humorous and 'how stupid of you'. "Unless the Commander here forgot to lock it."

"Really Ash?"

"Just a thought sir. No offense meant by it."

"Come to think of it," murmured Tali nearby. "I think he _was_ the last one out."

"Then I rest my case."

Before he could say anything in defense, John just then noticed the oncoming arrival of Alenko; pulling what looked like an extendable gurney he must've dragged from the med-bay. He silently rolled it up next to the bleeding form, his brown eyes set in an skeptical frown as he mutely moved his gaze up and down the body in front of him. Without wasting another second though, both lieutenant and superior went to carefully guide the woman onto it. Kaidan took hold of the woman's underarms while Shepard went to her feet, his doubts curling his face into a pensive mask.

At their movement however, that's when the mystery woman wheezed; a sound barely distinct over the usually gentle hum of the _Normandy_.

Kaidan's grip slackened on her arms, his eyes widening a fraction of an inch while Shepard froze in place. The two watched as Chakwas sidled over and gently brushed Kaidan out of the way, her hands suddenly all over the woman's chest and skull. Said subject actually gritted her bloody teeth at this, a mess of deep red splashed against formerly stark white.

"She's lost so much blood already," Tali sputtered somewhere behind Shepard, growing twitchy at the sight of her. "I don't think she'll even make it up the elevator."

 _My thoughts exactly._

Wrex was _far_ more subtle with his thoughts, "I say toss her out the hangar. Or put a bullet in her head to end her suffering. Either works. She could die a warrior's death."

John then favored for squinting at the Krogan, his lips set in a firm line. Tali folded her arms and narrowed her glittering eyes meanwhile, and Ashley blinked rapidly for a second before settling for a scowl in his direction.

"What?" he grumbled. "Its meant to be a compliment."

"What part of that was considered a 'warrior's death'?" Ashley griped.

Shepard didn't even bother with the reprimand; nor whether he should contemplate what Wrex's form of honor was. The elevator on the _Normandy_ was _stupidly_ sluggish, and it would take precious minutes out of the girl's life. She was bleeding too profusely to be ignored any longer, so he turned to Chakwas and said, "Tell us when you think its safe to move her. She needs to be in the ward _now_."

The Doc moved away again, her older face somewhat gray with worry. She nodded at Shepard and Alenko and then wordlessly gestured, her hands fidgety but steady.

"Alright then. I'm guessing that means now. Ready Alenko?"

"On three," Kaidan motioned.

Shepard didn't even bother counting; because suddenly he was saying "Three" and both men were swiftly moving the woman onto the gurney in deft fashion. The movement however tore a groaning warble out of her, and then her left hand moved to her bleeding waist. Her teeth appeared from the mess of crimson dotting her face, her eyes pinched ever tighter. Her mouth moved again as mute words escaped her in breathy rasps as well, her chest shuddering. Fresh blood seemed to leak through her armor along her mid-riff, dripping slowly onto the padded fabric of the gurney.

Once again a man on a mission, Shepard then helped Chakwas and Alenko guide the gurney out of the hangar, the remaining alien squad-mates merely watching as the group of four clustered into the lift. The elevator closed and then dragged itself upward, the woman muttering imperceptibly and laboriously forcing herself to breathe. She wasn't making any coherent sense the whole trip up, but then again, she was also _dying_. So there's that. Chakwas kept tending to her the whole way unerringly, her movements sure and calculated. Shepard however was content watching the woman's face, observing as the green circuit-thing something-or-other crossed her cheeks.

When the door opened, Shepard was moving the gurney as fast as he could allow without jolting the woman too much, Kaidan helping keep the rickety thing steady. Blood had pooled into the fabric beneath her, but it wasn't in copious amounts thankfully. Hopefully she still had a chance given Chakwas stabilizes her _now_.

Once in the bay, Chakwas had the two men put the woman into a clean bed, and she began to try drag off some of her armor. Frantically, she moved between that task and hooking the woman to her equipment, Kaidan doing what he could to help.

Across the tiny ward, another door slid dully open and the newest addition to the _Normandy_ peered out with a luminous expression, her vivid features catching the commander's eye. John shook his shaved head at her silently, Liara taking note and disappearing back into her new (and apparently official) quarters.

At this point, Shepard noted that he's likely in the way himself, so he began to clear out of the room. He knew the Doc would ping him once the poor sob was properly breathing, so he left the two to their ministrations and sauntered out quietly. Its not like he had anything else to do with his time until things simmered down, and walking around with a bloody set of clothes and hands wasn't really sanitary.

 _I think that shower is starting to look like a great idea,_ he inwardly sighed, remembering just how tired he was.

 _What a long fucking day_ , he internally added.

* * *

~~~000~~~

The _Normandy's_ version of a night cycle was whenever the Mess lights dimmed down in the late shift, when most of the crew was seen yawning and trudging their way sleepily to their quarters.

Shepard however was a twitchy bundle of nerves, his stony stare arrested on the ceiling of the lounge room. More or less, this room acted more like a captain's quarters, so not a lot of people wandered in or out. _No traffic_ , he thought, which suited the man just fine whenever he felt like being left alone. As it were, John Shepard was a solitary man in his off time out of uniform, but on board the _Normandy_ he was more a socialite than originally pegged. Even at the strangest of hours, he'd be found pacing around the ship, checking on matters and chatting up whoever couldn't sleep.

But this time, he was lying awake for a different reason; one that didn't involve blurring images of distorted white-noise and synthetic grinding and _shitty_ screeching imparted to him by the Beacon. More often than not, the vision would bleed into his dreams, jolting the man awake at the most unholiest of hours. Calling them bad dreams didn't seem appropriate, but they weren't exactly pleasant either. _More like nightmares_ , he thought some days.

Still, Shepard found himself glancing at his omni-tool time and time again for any messages; _any_ from Chakwas about her newest patient. Several hours ago, he'd left the bay and showered, changed into his fatigues (his favorite worn-out hoodie and pants) and forced himself to get some sleep. It evaded him however, and his mind kept drifting back to the unusual marks in the woman's flesh, and her more unusual circumstance. Why would she be on Therum of all things? And right in the middle of hot-zone to boot. How did she get those synthetic marks on her? And just who the heck is she?

 _And... if its somehow possible... does she have anything to do with the synthetic bullshit in the vision?_

 _Okay. Maybe not. But its not out of the realm of impossibility._

Still, more questions burned and soured at the man's throat, but Shepard reeled in his patience and decided he might as well check on the prim doctor and her charge anyway. Maybe he could investigate the woman's armor and ask to see if she had an omni-tool; which would be a little more than helpful in finding out just who she is.

After coming down to this decision, the big man was already up and out into the empty Mess without further thought. He stood in front of the medibay door for a few seconds before it sighed open, Shepard letting himself in without much announcement. But the smell that greeted him first was what stopped him dead in the doorway.

 _Holy fuckin' Hell._

It hit him like someone slapped his face with a bag of burning alcohol. The stench held a sharp tang of antiseptic, burnt skin, and sweat-soaked fabric and metal clashing about it. Shepard could only wrinkle his large nose at the pungent aroma of familiar looming death, suddenly recalling his general contempt for hospitals overall. It was a damned florescent hell-hole as far as he was concerned; concreted by the fact too many people actually died in it more often than not.

"Commander," Chakwas greeted in an uncharacteristic, brittle, luke-warm manner, stirring him from his thoughts. "You could've at least _knocked_ you know."

Shepard kept his distance respectfully, his eyes roving the stinking room until he found the the elder doctor. She held a stern and mildly concerned frown sewn deeply into her aged face. Her stiff posturing became evident as she folded her rail-thin arms in front of herself, clucking her tongue at him contemplatively. Her body was deliberately placed in front of her newest patient, concealing the mystery woman from view.

John felt his hands slip to his pockets, his lop-sided smirk more exhausted than anything. "Yeah, sorry about that," he shrugged. "Guess I could've done that."

Chakwas waved it off and moved back over to her desk, picking up her data-pad with the newest details on her patient. Without looking back up at him she said, "I suppose you have a reason for being up at this time?"

Shepard meandered into the bay further, his ice-colored eyes finding the twisted piles of ruined metal sitting only a few feet from him. He quickly realized that that scrap heap _was_ what remained of the armor the woman wore previously, and it looked _distinctly_ military in its make. Forcing back his growing knot of apprehension, John leaned over and inspected the broken pieces with a careful eye. He knew Chakwas didn't want this smoldering wreck anywhere near her vulnerable patient at the moment, so he thought he'd at least carry the shit out whenever he left.

Going back to the Doc's previous question, he then bantered, "Yeah, couldn't sleep. I needed something to do with my time."

"So you decided to bother me until you get bored," she reciprocated genially.

"Something like that. Or until I decide to bother Garrus," he half-joked. "I think he's still up at this hour."

The good doctor's expression then flipped back to professional, and then she put down the datapad and navigated her way back over to the machine. "I suppose you want answers then?" She asked, her fingers dancing across some keypad or something John couldn't make heads-or-tails of.

"Preferably. Yeah," another shrug. "You were saying she's Alliance, I think."

A non-commital hum floated up in reply, but it beheld no clear answer. Shepard still didn't remove his eyes from the outrageously and shockingly heavy gear, weighing it on one hand and eventually searching for its type and make. Its no wonder why the Doc hasn't already removed from her work-space; the pieces alone were made of some heavy duty material. However, his efforts at recognizing the armor was futile, seeing just how absolutely _deteriorated_ the crap was. It must've been good armor while it lasted, seeing how it saved the woman's life from something he was certain was a Hellish blast.

 _Probably the only reason why she's alive at all._

"I dunno about that," Chakwas continued, redirecting Shepard's thoughts back to his previous statement. "Her dog tags say Alliance, but the information on them didn't seem, for lack of better words, credible."

"Go on."

The doctor withdrew from the machine and back to her desk, flitting from one side of the bay to the other. _She must be feeling as twitchy as me,_ he figured.

"I've started running some blood tests on her, so maybe we'll have a clearer idea on who she is in a day or two. Maybe more," she added. "However, her omni-tool would've shortened that time considerably, given if it wasn't so _utterly_ , irrevocably, and completely non-funtional."

He went on to ask while he turned over the breast plate, "Do you think it could be fixed?"

Chakwas looked dubious, but then she offered with a slight smile, "Who knows. I'd think letting Tali have a crack at it might make a difference though. Adams gushes about her intelliectual ingenuity as if she were his own daughter."

John looked up and felt the stiffling weight in his gut lesson somewhat. He heard nothing but good things from _all_ the engineers regarding Tali's potential, so it was a start. "Now there's an idea," he mused.

"Hmm."

Eventually, Shepard was on his feet again and walking towards the Doc, watching as she withdrew the _grotesquely_ melted pile of crap from her desk, along-side the woman's tags.

"What the- What is this?"

"Her omni-tool. Or what's left of it."

"Sweet mother of fuck," Shepard shook his head as he inspected it. "When you said, 'non-functional', I think that's putting it _mildly_. This thing's as good as scrapped with the condition its in. I'd rather not bother Tali with it."

The other merely shrugged at him, her face heavily lined, "I think I remember saying just how _utterly_ and _irrevocably_ non-functional it was. But still, it can't hurt to ask anyway."

Once again, the man could only shake his head, his mind skeptical. Whatever the case, he put the formerly recognizable piece of eezo-tech aside in favor of taking the tags. They were dirty and scuffed, but the metal itself was pristine; as were the characters etched into its plated surface. John wasted no time in turning the damned things over and feeling out the material they're made from; even going as far as to extract the tags hanging around his own neck in-turn so to make an accurate comparison. He glanced from one set to the other, reading off the scant information on both while trying to find the lie in the woman's set.

If it wasn't for the obvious wear and slight name variation, he'd would've easily thought them the same thing: although her name plate contained the name 'Jane' instead of John. However, the other creepy detail that crawled into his skin was the ship name and program she'd been apparently assigned.

 _Normandy...? Normandy SR-2? What the actual fuck is this; someone's stupid idea of a joke?_

Chakwas's accented drawl was almost simple white-noise in the back-drop meanwhile, "I drew some blood from her and I'm having it analyzed now. We'll see who she is before too long. As for the vessel mentioned in her tags though-"

"This _has_ to be fake," John woodenly inputed, not at all swayed by the data in the tags. There was no such thing as a Normandy SR-2; this he knew for a _fact_. Hell; even Joker knew as much. "Her tag says she's N7 too; and this Normandy thing aside."

 _Its total bullshit._

"-It's the reason why she keeps getting me mixed up with your credentials while I looked up any Alliance association," she stated. "Shepard, Normandy, and N7 are the key words here; helping me narrow down the individuals that may just somehow share your surname. She could really well be one of our own, I think." She didn't sound convinced despite her own words, but she pushed past it, "All we can do now is wait on her results from the blood sample I've searched... Her type can pull up a different set of numbers and-"

"Don't bother, Doc." He shook his shaved head and glanced at the newly named 'Jane', his frown evolving into something darker. "You can keep looking it up if you want, but you won't find anything. These tags suggest that much."

At this, Chakwas took pause and pointedly stared at the Commander, her tongue clucking queerly.

"I know this for sure," he handed the Medic the tags and affirmed resolutely. "There's no other N7's with the same name as mine. Check with Anderson if you're not convinced: There's no female Shepards in the program and _this_ I can personally assure you. She could be a first, probably, but she's more likely a fake. No middle ground there," he gave a dismissive wave of the hand there. "This Normandy SR-2 thing, among the other information in her tags is faulty if she's not showing up in the records. If she's not in the system, then she doesn't exist in the Alliance at all."

The room was suddenly thick with the grim acknowledgement of the weighted statement, but the Commander was correct as far as Chakwas knew.

"So that leaves the possibility that she could be outside of the military?" She offered.

"Yeah," Shepard twiddled with the tags and flipped them around some more. "-Probably a brat from the Terminus with stolen replica armor and false identification trying to give herself a place in the galaxy. I wouldn't think there's any other reason to say otherwise."

"Hmm. Well," she shook her head and glanced at the prone woman nearby. "I want to agree with you on that notion, but her body suggests otherwise."

John raised a thick brow and cocked a hip at her, his expression masked.

"You should see what her body was doing after I peeled off her gear," Chakwas tittered. "A Terminus human with expensive top-of-the-line military-grade synthetics and biotic implants seamlessly merged into her flesh seems quite unlikely. The synthetic material itself was speeding up her cell regeneration as well. Nothing Krogan-like, I assure you. But then there's her implants... they're something we haven't even finished testing yet."

"What are they?" Shepard inquired.

"L5n's! Could you believe that?" The Doc returned to her position beside Jane's bed, keying on her omni tool. "For all we know, all this augmentation of her flesh was someone's sick idea of creating a super-soldier. So saying she's from the Terminus isn't something probable."

"Okay. But its not out of the realm of impossibility either."

"Even so," She grunted back, her tone taut.

John then followed her and looked down at the silent patient, mutely taking in the sight of the glowing marks on her skin flickering into being. He then asked, "So, how powerful is her biotic power? Theoretically speaking."

"She can easily trump three of Kaidan. And if she went against Wrex, I wouldn't doubt she'd walk out of that one too."

Shepard could only shake his head, letting out a low-toned whistle in mild surprise. "I think its fair to say she's no rookie when it comes to a fire-fight," he concluded as he surveyed her masculine structure on the screen nearby. _She's built like a soldier and handles like a vanguard or something._

Chakwas nodded at this, her mouth pursed thinly, "No arguments there." She flicked off her omni-tool and turned back to Jane herself, her eyes catching sight of the subtle glow of her cream-colored skin. "So what do we do with her now?" She pondered.

"If she has no definitive I.D, I don't think she can get any proper help from a hospital in the Citadel." The man crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one leg, his mind adrift. "Besides, I think with her, _unique_ condition, she'd probably be hassled more than anything." He then frowned as he added, "-Actually, scratch that. More like _dissected_."

Chakwas certainly didn't disagree with him there, all things considered. "So we keep her here? On the _Normandy_?"

A mild, half-hearted shrug met Chakwas' query. "For the time-being," he said. "Maybe when we wake her up we can ask her what she wants, or where she came from."

"What makes you think she won't try to lie or conceal information from you?"

Shepard had folded his arms again at some point, not that he recalled doing so. Nonetheless, he tightened their hold across his chest, his posture cocky. "She won't have a choice," he elaborated. "Either she tells us who she is or she won't; with the latter ending in her getting dumped somewhere or getting arrested or worse. Or she gets a free ride to the Citadel after all, with the promise of a personal _investigation_ of her own body upon arrival, courtesy of C-Sec or _whoever_ wants to poke at her first. Its not like she has a lot of choices left available to her."

Chakwas made a face at this, clearly disapproving of the commander's words. However, it wasn't like they could toat around a liability during a desperate man-hunt for a crazy rogue intent on bringing back something that could potentially end in extinction.

"Anyway," Shepard unfolded his corded arms and moved away, going to pick up a scrap of armor and the burnt omni-tool still sitting on the desk. "-I'll bring this to Tali and see if she can do anything about it. I'll also run a trace on this to see what brand or make the armor is. I dunno if its much, but its something."

"You do that," replied the doctor distractedly, her gaze locked back onto her charge. "I'll give you any updates on her health in the mean-time."

"Alright then. Later Doc."

"And Commander... Get some sleep while you're at it," She called over her shoulder at his retreating back. "God knows _you_ of all people on this ship need it."

"Right," he tossed back lazily. "I'll do that."

 _Yeah right. Like Hell that'll happen._

* * *

~~~000~~~

John was soon finding himself in the hangar moments later, carrying the omni-tool on one arm and still blatantly ignoring the fact that he still needed some good god-damn sleep on the other.

The man strode into the huge room and briefly glanced around, noting the Chief's apparent absence from her work-station. _Likely asleep_ , he thought, which made sense considering the late hour. He then looked over at Wrex, who was passed out on the stone-cold floor, snoring like someone set a bomb off. His limbs were sprawled out at odd angles all around him, the krogan looking very much like someone shot him dead.

"Jesus," Shepard shook his head and felt a grin work its way at the corner of his usually stiff lip. "What a fucking slob."

The man walked over and peered down at him, amused by the sight somewhat, and then absurdly tempted to simply kick him for shits-and-giggles. However, he was left wondering why Wrex hadn't had the sense to bring a cot or _something_ of the like on-board the _Normandy_ when he first arrived. He briefly imagined him saying something like, "Sleeping soft is for humans and babies", and then promptly dropped the query.

He then turned towards the Mako and saw it had been diligently scrubbed clean; but there was a long pair of spurred legs jutting out from beneath it. Further scrutiny showed that the owner of said legs was no more conscious than Wrex was. Garrus was a dutiful worker however, and Shepard could only ascertain that the turian was simply too tired to get up in the end after he finished. The Mako had been in such a state prior to his leaving it outside the geth-infested sight, and he would've worked himself down to the bare bone to get it back to pristine condition in such a short amount of time. Not to mention the fact that he'd exhausted himself trying to help Shepard rescue Liara, ran circles around a large squad of Geth and an irritating krogan menace, and sprinted the entire length of the ruins itself in order to escape.

With that said, Shepard decided to let Garrus sit out the next one, feeling a little sheepish about working him so damn hard. _But still,_ he wondered. _Seriously these guys sleep like pigs._

John decided he was going to buy some spare cots the next time he was at the Citadel, and he was going to _make_ these two actually use them one way or another. Shepard just didn't feel right about leaving the two to sleep on the metallic flooring for the time being, and he felt like a jerk for not asking sooner if they were properly accommodated. But again, it was their prerogative since they choose not to sleep in the crew's quarters. He could only hope that Tali wasn't doing the same thing. It would be a cold day in Hell before he let a lady do what these slobs were doing; whether she was an alien or not.

Whatever the case, he then wandered into the Engineering room, his mind suddenly hazed as his exhaustion continued to sneak up on him. He yawned widely, and then took pause when he a heard a pair of voices rise over the din of the _Normandy's_ drive core. He knew immediately who they belonged to, and both sounded equally as obstinate as the other the more he listened.

"Come on, Tali. The least you can do is _try_. I got things covered here. Go get some rest."

The other waved him off, her long fingers continuously pouring over her work-space while she tilted her helmeted head at the fellow engineer. "Thank you, Adams, but I'm _fine_ ," she began with a definite note of weariness Shepard certainly picked up on. She then continued with, "-But I still have to catch up on the rest of this work before turning in, seeing how I've spent the better part of my day getting shot at. Doing _this_ kind of work is relaxing, and it'll tire me out eventually."

"So what you _actually_ meant is standing there all night gawping at the drive core is your form of counting sheep?"

"Uh, yeah. Pretty much. Wait. What-?"

"You don't even know what that means, do you?" The man chuckled.

"Not a clue," she bantered. "So, what's a sheep? Is it edible? And does it taste like chicken like everything else in this galaxy?"

John sniggered a little and entered the annoyingly bright room, the thrum of the _Normandy's_ heart beat more or less felt rather than heard as it twisted along in front of him. His heavier foot-falls finally caught the attention of the two engineers, and suddenly their conversation was forgotten.

"Oh, hullo Commander," Adams began warmly, drawing himself away from the core's main control panel. "We were just finishing up here. Something we can help you with?"

"Nothin' big really," he replied neutrally with a lazy gesture following up. "I just needed to ask a favor from our quarian friend here."

Tali finally seemed to draw herself away from her board, her glittering eyes the only clue to her confusion; besides twitchy hands on occasion.

"Ah. You mean talk her into getting some shut-eye, right? 'Cause I've been trying to do that for the last hour," continued the lead engineer.

"I said I was fine," the girl adamantly inputted, looking very much like she was about to fold her arms but didn't follow up. It would be considered rude to do so in front of a superior at least.

Shepard walked up next to Tali and nodded at the the man, giving a smaller smile himself. "I think its fair to say the _both_ of you should be getting some rest," he pronounced with the faintest touch of authority; not that he thought he still considered himself on the clock. "So my last order for tonight is for you two to get the Hell outta here before I feel inclined to drag you out myself."

"Aye aye sir," Adams saluted.

"Yes, Shepard."

"Okay then," Shepard nodded at Adams as he went to leave. He waited until he was sure the man had gone before turning towards Tali, his expression a little wane but no less serious. "Before you go, I might as well get to the point."

"Oh?"

The commander felt his nose wrinkle up as he held out the woman's... Jane's omni-tool and prepared himself for the potential disappointment. "I know this thing looks like melted scrap," he began with a touch of uncertainty. "And by all rights and purposes, that's what it looks like. But, I need the information in this thing. Do you think you can fix it?"

"Keelah Shepard," Tali seemed to hesitate as she took the eezo piece and turned it over, her relatively distinct eyes seemingly roving it in mild distaste and intermingled shock. "Was this... was this the woman's _omni-tool_? Its hard to tell."

"Well... it _was_."

Again with the head shake. "Keelah," she repeated in a breathless sigh. "This makes me wonder what could've done this to her omni-tool of all things. I mean, she looked _bad_ enough as it is, but this? At this rate, its more useful being melted down into omni-gel."

John dipped his head and felt his gut sink some, "So, its not salvageable, is it?"

Tali locked eyes with him (as far as he can tell) and seemed to smirk somewhat; the image of her almond-shaped orbs seemed to crinkle at the corners. "Please Shepard. I'm a _quarian_ for Ancestor's sake. Hand me some spare eezo and scrap metal and I can make you a working ship. This will take some time, don't get me wrong, but I can do it."

At this, Shepard certainly felt his lingering dregs of fatigue seep elsewhere, "Really?"

A resolute nod was his satisfactory answer. And then, "All you need is the information in it, right? Not to work properly again?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

There was no denying that she was smiling here, "Then consider it easily done."

"Tali, I think you just saved me and Dr. Chakwas a fuck-ton of trouble," he stated earnestly.

"Didn't I do that for you back at the Citadel with that piece of evidence?"

"That you did," he replied with a grin.

The girl tucked away the broken tool and did a slight shrug with one shoulder, her right hand gesturing, "Is that all you needed for the time being? I mean, if there's anything else-"

"Not really," he supplied. "-But the least you can do is actually take Adam's advice. Get some rest before you decide to drop dead from exhaustion like Garrus did."

"Oh." Tali's eyes seemed to crinkle again, "I think I did hear him a while ago... he's still under that tank, isn't he?"

"He sure is."

"That bosh'tet," she shook her head and seemed to frown at this. "Me _and_ Adams both told him to take it easy. He works himself far too much, even for turian standards."

"You guys don't have any bedding do you?"

"Don't worry Shepard," she humored. "I actually _use_ the crew's quarters like any _normal_ person would. Its Garrus that has the problem."

 _Or maybe some of the crew still has a problem with him_ , Shepard thought, recalling Pressly's words regarding their alien comrades. The man seemed to have a bigger issue with aliens than Williams' did with turians in general; which was really saying something.

John shifted some weight onto his left foot and leaned against the wall, fighting the need to yawn again. "What about Wrex? Does he just... sleep where-ever the Hell he wants?"

"He does. I thought you knew that?"

Again, Shepard wrinkled his large nose at that. "I thought he had something to sleep on, or at least brought more than just his gun and armor."

Suddenly, the quarian seemed to giggle a bit, and then sigh loftily. "You're worried about how comfortably a _krogan_ sleeps, Shepard; let alone Wrex of all people. Honestly, if it wasn't so funny, I'd say its the most thoughtful thing I've seen in a while. Well, besides you saving me when you did."

"Now you're just making me feel ridiculous," he half-joked. "But then again, I guess that does sound odd, huh?"

She thankfully waved it off, "Odd or not, do you want me to keep this exchange between us? I mean the omni-tool thing-"

"Preferably, yeah."

"Alright then," She nodded. "Had to be sure."

There was a brief pause, and then Shepard felt his fatigue start creeping back as this silence bloomed between them. Tali suddenly started to subtly pull at her hands in a nervous tick at this, and it was something Shepard had learned to pick up on already.

"Can I ask you something else?" She began again, her voice calm but uncertain. "I mean, if I'm crossing a line here, you don't have to answer..."

"Speak your mind, Tali. I've always had an open door policy here."

She ducked her head, and then seemed to realize that she was fidgeting and promptly stopped doing it; which Shepard was mutely thankful for because he didn't like making his crew feel nervous around him. "Its about that strange woman that got dragged on board," she started with the smallest hint of hesitation. When Shepard didn't stop to tell her its none of her business, she felt emboldened enough to say, "Eh, well, _what_ is she exactly? And uh, what's going to happen to her? Do we even know who she is?"

Shepard moved his weight from leg to the other, folding his arms and quickly noticing that he was losing his battle with the need to yawn and get back to bed quicker. Placing a lazy hand over his mouth and doing so as politely as possible, he then said, "I guess the easiest way to answer all those questions is to say, I'm not sure yet. That's why I gave you the omni-tool in the first place: Chakwas has been trying to identify who she is but she hit a wall. As to what she is... I dunno. She seemed human enough."

"You don't sound so sure."

"Mmm. Maybe," he rolled his shoulders in a lethargic manner. "All I know is that she's staying on board with us for a short while. Whenever she gets up, and depending on whatever she feels inclined to tell us will determine what happens to her. You certainly don't have to worry about it."

Tali moved an articulate three-fingered hand to the bottom of her mask, turning half-way away while pondering her superior's words. "What Garrus said about her bothers me; the part where he said, 'she's one thing one minute and something else another'-"

"He wasn't entirely wrong."

She glanced back up at him, her posture stiff enough to betray her innate worry, "What- you mean he's _right_?"

When a nod met her query, Tali was suddenly all nerves, shaking her head and pivoting back on her heel somewhat. Seeing this, Shepard attempted to placate the nervous quarian by saying, "Tali, look. I said _don't_ worry about it, okay? She's so doped up on meds I doubt she'll move for a while yet. Besides, she's not really a threat in her current condition-"

"Its not that," she quickly amended. "Its just... Its her skin. I've never seen anything _like_ it. Bio-synthetic fusion isn't really that uncommon amongst certain races, but it certainly never yeilded such... ah, _perfect_ looking results before. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

"And with what Garrus said," she continued while tugging half-heartedly at her fingers again. "It just been bothering me ever since you and the doctor dragged her off to the med bay. I seriously thought it was the Geth that blurred the lines between what's organic or inorganic, but this? I just wonder if it has _anything_ to do with what the Geth... or Saren are up to."

John blinked quizzically, trying to follow along Tali's somewhat disjointed (or perhaps paranoid) thought process here. Still, he could only say, "I seriously doubt it, but I guess we certainly won't know for sure until we learn more about her."

"Then I guess I should seriously get to work on this... thing, you gave me," She concluded, her voice contrite. She held up her thin arm and keyed on her omni-tool briefly, her eyes suddenly flickering open more widely as in surprise. "Keelah, I didn't know what time it was! I need finish up here and get to-"

" _Tali._ "

"Hmm?"

"Didn't you hear Adams, or me for that matter? Get. To. Bed. Work _later_. All this junk," he gesticulated around the room then. "-Will still be here when you wake up. What I need you to do is actually _try_ to get some sleep. I don't have much use for a squad-mate or crew-member that works tired all the time. Sometimes, working tired is worse is than driving drunk. Get what I'm saying?"

The girl, if Shepard had to describe it, seemed mollified by this, and then she ducked her head again as she conceded to the sense of the logic. "Yes sir. You're absolutely right."

"Of course I am."

She juggled her shoulders lightly, as if giggling. "Right," she puffed. Her next words sounded awkward, "I'll uh... I'll just go then."

"Tali?"

"Yes, Shepard?"

John wondered if he should just ask, but decided against it; he'd wasted away half his night already. "Nevermind," he quickly shrugged. "Just get some sleep. Promise me that you'll try?"

"I'll try."

"Good. Now get out of here."

The quarian seemed to smile, or something of the sort; John couldn't tell. Still, just as she turned to leave as Adams did before her, she suddenly stopped and gave Shepard what he guessed was a critical once-over. She then asked, "Shepard, do you... do you always talk this informally to your crew? Or... I mean... or is this just a human thing?"

The man gave a little laugh at this, letting his hands drift into his pockets and feeling a smirk creep up his lip. "Not really," he lazily drawled. "Its only when I'm off the clock. Or bored." _Or tired._

"Oh. Okay then. So its just a 'you' thing?"

"Yep."

The commander got the feeling that the girl was smiling good-naturedly; her tone certainly suggested it. "Ah, alright then. Good-night, Shepard. Be sure to take your own advice."

"Dully noted."

Tali took the lead out and vanished down the _Normandy's_ dull blue halls, her footsteps eventually disappearing beneath the hum of the eezo core behind him. As for Shepard however, he was left to his own thoughts, his smile fading from his face as he considered the stranger sleeping peacefully a deck above him. He turned towards the spiraling core and watched it rotate around monotonously, his hands balling up in his pockets. He counted some five minutes before he finally felt inclined to leave, forcing his semi-anxious thoughts to still themselves long enough so he could actually concentrate on being _tired_ as a normal person would be at this ungodly hour.

Emptying back out into the hangar, he glanced around and saw that neither Wrex nor Garrus had budged once since he passed through a short while ago. He shrugged it off and turned towards the lift, waiting until the sensor finally detected him and brought the damn elevator creeping back down. As it opened back up, he could only heave a single, long-suffering sigh as his mind scratched away at logic.

 _Sleep now. Think later._

The lift closed on his retreating back, and the _Normandy's_ hangar was left silent save for the droning rumble of a sleeping krogan.


End file.
